We'll Always Have Paris - A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Gabrielle Moreau is a 19-year old French girl living in Paris, the “capital of love”. To most people she looks ordinary, but behind her high-built façade hides a girl that suffers. She tries to shut the inferior sides of her life out by doing the things she loves and letting her thoughts circle around something elsewhere—and she succeeds in focusing on the good things in life flawlessly.
When Gabrielle an early morning gets a call from One Direction’s manager, who offers her the opportunity of working with them on their summer tour in Paris, she immediately replies him with a yes. She doesn’t know it just yet, but within the next few months she will get to grow a close bond to each of the boys in the band—and particularly one of them. Before she knows it, Gabrielle has been thrown into something she this time won’t be able to pull herself out of … Will she finally start opening herself up to someone and let them in without any conditions? **Check out the trailer in the right sidebar**


36. Beneath the dim lights of a tattooist



My head jerks up in surprise. Gabrielle’s figure is hovering above me, her facial expression determined. 

“You what?” I exclaim.

“I wanna get a tattoo.”


She grasps for my hand and pulls me up from the couch with a dazzling smile. “Yes,” she tells me, “and you’re going with me.” She tries to take a step with my hand still in hers, but my hesitation holds her back. An annoyed look appears on her pretty face. “Oh, c’mon! There’s a shop just on the other side of the street and I already talked Louis into going with me. Besides, have you ever looked at yourself? Your skin is seriously inked.”

“Yes, but that’s diff—” I pause when I realize what a stupid thing I was about to say. It isn’t different at all, and that’s probably what Gabrielle has been trying so hard to convince me. “Fine, if you are sure this is what you want…I’ll come with you.” A cheerful squeal escapes her and she rages forward to draw me in for a tight hug—I guess she really is thankful I’m going with her after all.

Exiting the park we’d been eating our picnic lunch in and crossing the boulevard, she drags me towards a small, gloomy shop with a neon sign in the window saying, “Come in, we’re open!” The building is worn and a tad unsettling, but as long as they don’t infect Gabrielle’s skin with some kind of virus I’m sure it will work fine for getting your skin inked. I’ve been to tattoo shops way worse with the boys; I clearly recall how Harry had to go to the doctor after getting that stupid butterfly tattoo…

When I spot Louis standing by the tattoo shop’s catalogue, I immediately approach him. He smiles when he sees me, pointing towards one of the tattoos on the poster in front of him. “Look, this one’s really cool. Maybe I should—”

Just staring at the small drawing of the spoon makes an incredibly loud laugh escape me. “So what, you can scare Liam off without actually having to move a finger?”

“No, of course not,” he frowns, earnest. “I thought it would go well with my teacup.”

I stare amused at him for a moment, but it soon dawns to me that he’s serious. “Enough with the meaningless tattoos, Lou. It’s a stupid habit to get them and we both know it.”

“It’s not meaningless! My teacup symbolizes my love for Yorkshire tea, and who do I love to drink it with the most? Eleanor. Which means that actually the teacup symbolizes my girlfriend, which I love unconditionally. Don’t you think that’s a sweet gesture?”

I sigh and turn away from Louis and his way too insisting and overanalyzed opinions. When it comes to tattoos he’s still as hopelessly lost in the subject as he’s always been.

“Guys!” Gabrielle yelps from the corner of the shop, “I think I’ve found the one I want.” Louis and I glance at each other. Something inside my stomach flutters with curiousness and excitement, but at the same time I’m worried she’s picked something out that’s…very unsettling. You can always hope she doesn’t get her inspiration from Harry or Louis, right? I break the eye contact with my friend and join Gabrielle, padding her back and glancing past her shoulder to detect what she’s looking at. My heart drops to my feet when I see the small raccoon her finger is pointing at.

I hear a cheerful squeal from beside me and turn to stare at Louis. “So you’re really getting the one I picked out? I told you an animal would always be a good first option!”

Gabrielle laughs and lets her hand fall to her side. “No, I’m defiantly not getting the raccoon. I’m thinking more of getting this one,” she said and I followed her gaze to a neat music note on the poster. “I got inspired by it and thought that I might get a tat of a couple of notes…and some special ones, too, if you know what I mean: It’ll be the ones of the chorus of ‘Over Again’. To symbolize how I’d relive this whole summer with you guys if I had the chance.”

“Awe,” it sounds from both Louis and I in unison, smiles big on our faces. We draw Gabrielle in for a tight hug and place a kiss on each of her soft cheeks. “We love you too.” She makes a face of disgust, but we only end up snickering viciously at each other.

“So you’ve found you’re one and only.” Louis pads her shoulder with a grin. “You ready to go in?”

She nods stiffly at him, obviously trying to show her gumption with a hint of badass. “Bring on the pain. Mama’s ready.”




The tough-looking tattooist asks Gabrielle one last time if she wants some pain killers, but she yet again shakes her head in a careful dismissing. Her determination is as hard as steel and steadfast, which is something I have to give her some credit for. More people think that getting a tattoo doesn’t hurt more than a small needle poking slightly against your skin, but they’re terribly wrong. You’ve got to have the guts if you don’t want to look like a small kid crying his eyes out when you’re finally on the table. And again, this is one of the reasons I think Niall hasn’t got a tattoo yet: He’s not near to being squeamish, but he has always had this strange fear of needles. Every time we go to the hospital to get a vaccination before we have to travel, he’s scared to death—imagining him beneath the needle of a tattoo artist would be impossible.

Gabrielle leans back in her seat and puts her palm on the table beside her, leaving the back of her hand freely uncovered for the tall tattooist to start working his magic on. “I’m feeling totally fine without any of those pills…so go on, I’m ready.”

On her word, he starts progressing.

When the needle first touches Gabrielle’s skin she flinches. Her eyes are quickly squeezed closed and even from the chair I’m placed on I can see how she has started trembling. Strangely enough, I can sense that she’s not fearful, but somehow just think the pain is close to unbearable. The anxiousness awakes in my body once again when I watch her flinch at the needle in the tattooist’s hand as he lowers it down to touch her skin again. I knew she shouldn’t have gone into this thing out of pure spontaneity.

On the chair’s wheels I roll past the floor in a swift movement. I stop abruptly by the tattooist’s chair, regarding the strained lines of Gabrielle’s face. Carefully I slip my hand into hers. She immediately takes grip of it for comfort. “Take a deep breath,” I soothingly tell her, “and try to relax.”

She does as told and inhales a deep breath of air. Only a few moments later I recognize her body unwinding.

“That was one note,” it sounds from the tattoo artist in a mumble. “Fifteen to go.”

Gabrielle holds tighter onto my hand as to ensure herself that I’m still here. I smile, telling her that I’ll support her through it all until she has got every single one of those musical logos imprinted on the back of her hand—no matter how long it’s gonna take and how much it’s gonna hurt, I know she’ll make it through.

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